26 Notes
by softer
Summary: 26 letters in the alphabet, A word, and a Castle drabble to go with each. A collection of cute little one-shots. Rated for chapters 10 and every few after that. Now Complete!
1. Amore

**This is just a prompt I saw, and I have had a few ideas bouncing around in my head, so hey, why not?  
****Publish them.**

**So here goes a collection of one shots- just between chapters of my other fic. They are really short, but if I did my job right, they will be very very sweet.**

**Also while the fic is rated T (to be safe, there is suggestion), that may change depending on the letter, but I will move it and label accordingly. **

**So there is Italian in this chapter, and I don't know anything in Italian except for excuse me, have a nice day, and bene (well), so I really hope I got the language right here.  
If I didn't kindly help me? (without being mean). **

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**A**

**Amore**

Kate was multilingual- this he knew.  
He could tell, when she burst into the back room of the casino with her Russian accent that she had a gift with tongues (a fantasy that got him through many a lonely night). He would push and push and push her to the edge of frustration, tap dancing on her last nerve, and she would call him all sorts of things. "Asino," she would mutter under her breath. "Figlio di una cagna," she would curse, when something particularly tragic would happen with a case. That's how he measured her temper- in the language she was cursing in.

That's why when she's laying in his bed that morning, sheets and his legs entwined in hers, her head resting on his bare chest, she whispers it. "Amore." She completes the simple Italian phrase with a light kiss to his chest, and he's not sure how, but he knows what it meant.

Okay, maybe the understanding came from the Italian-to-English dictionary he bought the last time she called him an ass, but it was mostly the way she said it.

In that moment, with the light streaming in from the window and her hair splayed out on his white sheets and him, the mood was so easy. Soft. Tender. Her words sounded to match.

"Ti amo troppo" he replied, with an unsteady accent. As a writer he was rather attached to English, but it was important he got that one right.

That was the first thing he learned in Italian, and he learned it for this reason specifically. He couldn't help the pride bursting in his chest when she looked up at him in wide-eyed surprise. It was just about all he knew, too. He said nothing more, and after a moment a warm smile overtook the surprise and she just stared at him, touched.

She lifted her head, planting a kiss on his cheek but missing, landing on his lower jaw insead. All the same.

"Amore," she just repeated.

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**So Amore, if you haven't guessed, is Italian for love. Ti Amo troppo is supposed to mean I love you (I HOPE that's what it means).**

**So you go review, and I will go brush up on my Italian.  
Oh, where are my manners? PLEASE review is what I meant to say. **

**Thanks to Lia_italy on twitter for the word ;D**

**Amore,  
**** softer**


	2. Beat

**This one is one of my favorites, teehee.**

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**B**

**Beat**

Her heart beat- harder and harder as he closed in on her.  
She could swear he heard it, threatening to burst from the ribcage that protected it.

He stepped a step closer and closer and closer until he could literally step no further, and his breath mingled with hers in the little space between them.

The air was so cold around them she could see it, leaving her and meeting him. His warmth did the same, radiating towards her like a magnet, traveling deliciously warm paths across her skin.

It's snowing- she can feel the cold icy flecks on the back of her neck but she doesn't really care because he's so warm. She's ankle deep in the freezing white precipitation, and her socks are beginning to get soaked even through her sneakers. Damn, she should have worn boots today.

"Castle, I-" she begins, not knowing what she's going to say as she starts the sentence. What was she going to say again? Something about how this was a bad idea. Something about how she couldn't. She couldn't recall the reasoning behind either of those statements now, however clear they were five minutes ago.

He brought up a hand, it was moving towards her face.

Was he really about to do this?  
Was she really about to let him?

It was then his hand met the side of her brown head and the sensation hit her:

Cold.  
Cold and wet.

Ice and melting snow ran in rivers down her neck, under her scarf and blouse, causing her to freeze, shoulders hunched at the unwelcome feeling.

The snow still sticking to her hair and the smug grin on Castle's face was telling enough.

There was no denying he won the snowball fight.

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**Did I get you with the ending?  
I hope I did.**

**Review, tell me about it.  
And as for word suggestions, I'm all about it. **

**Throw them at me, any letter you like.  
You just may be featured in the next fic, ey?**

***nudge nudge wink wink*  
thanks for reading and reviewing (cause your going to, right?)**

**cmon. Only devoted readers read the an.  
softer **


	3. Curious

**I am a fan of this one. Just throwing that out there.**

**I am loving all of the suggestions and feedback- thanks!**

**Grazie Mille! **

**I hope I used that right.**

**Now go- read. :)**

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Curious

She tip-toed- stepping lightly on the soft pads of her bare feet as she crept down the stairs. She made it to the bottom without so much as a sound, continuing by heading towards the living room. She avoided all of the hard wood floors soft spots, making her stealthy way across the hall into the main room, where wood turned to carpet.

A few more paces and she'd be there.  
She approached the door, warily, closing a hand around the cool, brass doorknob, twisting it, slowly.

She swung the door open, quickly, so it didn't creek obnoxiously. Her hand reached inside the room, brushing along the wall, blindly, until her fingers found it- the switch.

She smiled to herself and flicked it on, flooding Castle's office with the soft orange luminance.

It looked completely normal- how it looked all the time.

Despite Castle's chaotic lifestyle, he was very organized- everything just so. Neat. Tidy. The mischievous grin was back as she hurried over to the left hand wall. Just under the large window that consumed the wall was a low, double-shelved horizontal book case. The decorative pillows atop it made the bookshelf into a bay window seat, perfect for laying, sitting, relaxing. And hiding stuff.

Kate crouched down, tapping the exposed back of the book case, lightly.  
A hollow sound replied in kind.

She grinned, pleased with this quiet confirmation of her discovery, and grasped the top lip of the seat. She threw it open, revealing the hollow cavity hiding inside.

"Aha!" Castle's voice sounded behind her, making her jump a mile out of her skin.

"Jesus, Rick," she clutched her chest, turning to see the unsuspected visitor. He was standing, in nothing but his bath robe and a very smug expression. She sunk down to a sitting position as she relaxed from her surprise. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"I knew it- I knew it all along, Kate," he said, still wearing that smile. "You were just playing me all along, weren't you?" She looked at him, confused. "Making me dinner, agreeing to watch a Bond movie, _dessert._" She smiled wickedly at the implication of his last word, memory of not hours earlier brought to the surface. "You were just seducing me so you could slip out of bed in the middle of the night to come look for it."

"Look for what?" she asked, innocently, giving him her best big eyes. He closed in on her, curling into a sitting position beside her, turning his head to face her.

"I thought you didn't want to know?" He asked, dropping the game for a minute.

"I…don't. I'm just…curious, is all." She replied, gravitating closer to him, more out of instinct than anything.

"It's supposed to be a surprise," he told her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder, planting a kiss on her temple.

"I hate surprises," she grumbled.

"Kate- you've waited a whole year," he checked his watch. "A few more hours won't kill you." She let herself sink further down so she was laying, her head resting on his leg as a pillow, face peering up at his.

"Think you beat last year?" she asked him.

He knew she was baiting him, but he couldn't resist. "I blew last year's out of the water with this one."

"I don't know…"

"I'm still not convinced tonight wasn't just a big ploy," he told her, matter of fact-ly, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, hanging there, inches from her face.

"I made you dinner because I knew you weren't about to get up and do it," she responded, lifting her head slightly to kiss his cheek. "And I watched the Bond movie with you because I love you," she finished, kissing him on his other cheek, earning a broad smile.

"And dessert?" he asked.

"Mmm," she snaked a hand into his hair, pulling him down for a deep kiss, full on the mouth. At last she pulled away, again resting her head on her makeshift pillow, her fingers still buried in his brown locks. "Purely recreational," she responded in a voice that even now made him choke on air. He smiled, kissing her quickly again before noticing his watch.

Morning was officially upon them, the watch said, and so he used this opportunity to reach into the hollow bookcase and retrieve a small, hand-wrapped box. He set the parcel on her stomach, smiling at her puzzled expression.

"Happy Anniversary, Kate."

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**Please please please review.  
I don't even have anything incredibly clever to say at this point, except for to drop me a line.**

**It means the world and then some pocket change, really. **

**softer **


	4. Doom

**Okay.  
This chapter.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes some very heavy movie referencing.  
You may get it, you may not.**

**If you haven't seen Cast Away, you won't.  
And you also need to drive yourself to the nearest rental place.  
After you review, of course. **

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D

Doom

A gray sky hangs over New York City, the sun nowhere to be found under a heavy blanket of cumulonimbus clouds. Thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, a low, muted sound that touched Manhattan's streets. A brief flash of white light sears a scar through the sky a moment later, and its then that the heavy clouds unleash the impending doom that threatened the city.

A man exits a cab, meeting the cold air and wet flecks with a grin as he pulls a woman out behind him. They run, laughing, hand in hand as they battle not only the cities untamed traffic but the rain.

"Castle," she calls, letting herself be tugged along. He doesn't respond, but turns to face her, not stopping in his running, still grinning happily.

"C'mon," he called back. That and one more gentle pull of her arm had them both running through the street, the apartment on the other side of the two-way traffic their only destination.

At last they reached the doorstop, but before she could charge into the warm, dry lobby of his building, he used the hand entwined with hers to pull her back, into him.

"Castle, what are you doing?" she asked, although the smile she was trying to fight told him she knew the answer to that. He cupped her cheek in his hand, tenderly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, using his thumb to brush the hair matted to her forehead out of her eyes.

"We are so not doing this right now," she said, rolling her eyes. His face told her he didn't follow. The rain kept pouring relentlessly, and New Yorker's ran past them in a blur. There was nothing but her in his sight, and most definitely not his mind. "I am not Helen Hunt and you are most _definitely _not Tom Hanks."

"Ouch," he pulled back, pretending to be hurt. Kate cursed herself when her body followed his without conscious permission, longing for the warmth his body emanated.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.  
Oh, he noticed. The grin he was wearing told as much.

"I guess this is an inappropriate time to tell you that I love you, too, Kate. More than you will ever know." He told her, the joke masked only by the sincerity in his voice.

Kate weighed her options. After a whole two seconds of consideration, she took a step closer.

"You said you would be right back."

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**I am really sorry if you didn't understand the ending-  
And I KNOW this one is cliche but it was too cute to pass up.**

**I will make up for both of these things in the next chapter.  
I promise.**

**So review?**

**sof**


	5. Eulogy

**I want to first and foremost thank Susan for all her help- seriously.  
All credit to Susan for the word. **

**And to my readers and reviewers- the response I am getting on this is fabulous, and it's like the words can't pour out fast enough.  
Thank you guys for being so awesome. **

**Okay- this one is kind of heavy.  
I wanted to say it without saying it. **

**So this is me.  
Not saying it.**

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**E**

**Eulogy **

Kate Beckett made her way across the soggy grass to the grave, where the casket was yet to be set into the ground. Already a cluster of people were gathered around it, a cloud of black huddled around the equally dark hole. Kate recognized many officers- some she'd met at formal events, some she'd met under a rain of gunfire and some she'd recognized by name and face and status. Many she didn't know at all. She didn't need a uniform to recognize a well-weathered cop.

The soft crunch of earth underfoot reminded her of her company. Behind her trailed Ryan, Esposito, and as a new addition to tradition, Castle. He hung in the back, unsure. Kate was relieved when he didn't talk in the car, and she was relieved he wasn't running his smart mouth now. He promised to behave, and the grave demeanor he bore proved his word honest.

She brought him along because she trusted him.  
There was no question to that, and the fact was stated so plain that even Kate, master of denial and deflection couldn't ignore that.

She trusted him with this part of her.  
With this part of her team.

This was not something Castle failed to realize, or honor, for that matter.

He quickened his step only an increment so that he could whisper to Esposito. "What are we doing here?" When Beckett asked him to be respectful, he took it to heart. He saw her face when she saw the news break on national television. He saw the same penitent look when she read the Obituary.

So in the bullpen, he said nothing.  
In the car ride, he said nothing.

And now he tested waters.

The look Esposito gave him made Castle rip his toes from the edge, the waters proving to be scalding. "What does it look like we are doing?" He asked, lowly so Beckett wouldn't hear. This particular tradition didn't involve many words on their part.

"Is there some sort of backstory I'm missing here?" Castle asked, honestly confused. They were approaching the party quickly.

"Castle, you don't talk now," Esposito stopped, as Beckett and Ryan in front of him did. He turned to face his friend, trying to convey what this moment meant. "There is no backstory or a mystery to solve. You don't talk. Right now it's time to listen."

And with those words still bouncing around in the walls of Castle's cranial structure, the already mourning crowd quieted, and a man assumed the podium that stood beside the coffin and amidst the wake.

"You don't know him, do you?" Castle asked Esposito, quietly, realization hitting him with full force. "None of you know him." The other man didn't have to answer- the soft look he received said it all. It was then Castle parted from him. He pushed gently through the people until he reached her- Beckett.

He came up behind her, slipping his hand into hers, wordlessly, their fingers entwining without effort.

He took her by surprise, and she looked down at their hands, admiring how they fit together.

Normally she would pull away.  
Normally she would stuff her hand right down into the pocket of her pea coat and ignore him.

She wouldn't let the corner of her mouth pull upwards.  
She wouldn't squeeze his hand back, lightly, showing him it was okay.  
She wouldn't lean into his warm body, accepting the comfort he offered her.

Normally, he wouldn't have shut up.

No words were shared but so much was said.

And the man at the podium began to speak.

"Last week, Officer Daniel Hawthorn was taken from us. He served his country bravely and with honor, and gave his life to the law and lives he strived to defend. He was shot in the line of duty on September 15th of 2010, and today, we bury him with a flag and the same honor he died to protect…"

**End.**

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**Oh, look, another E word for ya.**

**So if I managed to say it without saying it (something you will totally get if I DID) then you should say it in a review.  
But actually say it.  
And actually review.**

**Thanks,**

**Softer **


	6. Fearless

**I have to thank Susan once again, for her help with the concept and those little things I tend to miss.**

**Without further adieu: **

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**F**

**Fearless**

Kate was no stranger to fear. Not only as a human and as a woman, but as a cop, she had come to accept fear as a part of her daily life. Denying fear, accepting fear, fearing fear, and most importantly, overcoming fear.

When she was 7, her biggest fear was heights.  
Now it was loss.

Death.  
Defeat.  
Failure.  
Heartbreak.

And now she stood, a Homicide Detective with a hardened shell and a woman underneath with eyes that had seen too much. She feared all of the above and then some. And then after the fear, she overcame.

She overcame the anxiety of her first airplane ride.  
She overcame the choke she experienced the first time she watched a man die.  
She overcame the choke she experienced the first time she killed a man.

And today she would get the hell over cupid's chokehold.

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It was in the break room, as Castle poured her a coffee that she pounced.

"You're afraid," she said, from her spot beside him and the coffee maker, leaning her weight against the commercial countertop. He turned to face her, a mixture of surprise and confusion in his eyes.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You are afraid." She stated again, simply. She was trying to figure him out just as much as he was her.

"And what exactly am I afraid of?" Suddenly he felt like he was on the ugly end of an interrogation.

"Me," she said, watching his eyes, carefully gauging his reaction. "Us." The single syllable earned wide eyes as realization dawned upon him. He took a minute to respond, his words chosen carefully. She was practically swimming in the silence as it fed the tension.

"If I do recall, it's you who's afraid. It's you who dodges my passes and blows off my obvious feelings," he told her. His voice was measured, calm. She couldn't help but let out a little ironic laugh.

"You can't just come out and say it. You have to make jokes and make _light _of it all. You can't just tell me how you feel." She was getting excited, and the tension turned from suspenseful to heated. The fight she was ready to fight was contagious and the next thing he knew, he was just as fired up.

"I have a daughter, Kate. I have a family that gets roped right in to this 'us' you exclaim so passionately about. 'Us' isn't you, Kate, and it's not me, and it's not just you and I together. It's…"

He trailed off, unable to coin exactly what 'it' was.  
Oddly, that was his point.

He stepped a step closer, the coffee he poured for her forgotten about. "You're damn straight I'm scared. I'm scared as hell. Scared of messing up, scared of running you off, scared of losing you, I'm scared that we won't work out. Hell, I'm scared that we will work out."

She reached out, her hand resting, palm flat, on his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath her.

"Me too," she whispered, so quietly he almost missed it. "I'm scared, too."

"You're Kate Beckett," he told her, equally as quiet. "You're fearless." She laughed again, this time at the irony of his words.

She was anything but without fear. It haunted her, every morning and every night and especially now, her face inches from his. It followed her home, triple-locked her door and slept under her pillow. She spent more time with fear than she did her own shadow. The thought crossed her mind and then she smiled at the pun and poetry. That, along with all the other things she once feared- still occasionally feared- needed to change.

And that was the sole logic that had her closing the space between them.

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**Review?**

**I could eat you up I love you so.**

**softer**


	7. Gravity

**Thanks to hallow777 for the word suggestion (and the very lovely, helpful review).****Definition brought to you by the free dictionary website.**  
**And made possible by viewers like you.**

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**G**

**Gravity**

"Beckett!" Castle raced into the squad room, manila file folder in hand. It was well into morning and the sky was lightening but he knew she would still be there. just where he left her, sitting in front of the murder board. The case had been rough; he had suspicions that she spent the night at the precinct at least twice in the past week, and tonight was no exception to the trend.

"Castle?" he heard her ask. She wasn't asleep on her desk, which was how he found her yesterday, but was sitting atop said desk, facing full-attention to the whiteboard.

"Beckett, I got it- it was Margret," he skidded to a stop, panting out of breath from what seemed to be running.

"What?" she was still slightly stunned by his sudden presence. She had been sitting in nothing but complete silence for the past few hours and wasn't ready for the assault on her senses.

"Margret Thompson is the killer. Listen," he handed her the manila folder. "The ME report said he was found with indentation to the fourth and fifth ribs," he took out a photo to show her. Like she hadn't seen it a hundred times over. "Well, I couldn't stop thinking about how it looked so familiar. Then I heard that Blue Oyster cover coming from the living room, Alexis was watching some show, and it hit me."

"Blue Oyster, really?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"It was from the Lincoln commercial. That's when it clicked." He pointed to the picture, tracing the pale indentations with his index finger. "See it? The vertical rectangle with the cross hairs in the center?"

She cocked her head to the side, and then nodded. "Yeah, I see it."

"It's from the hood ornament of a Lincoln town car. Guess who drives a 2006 silver Luxury Lincoln Town Car?" He watched as her eyes flicked from the photograph to him, widening with realization.

"Margret Thomson?" It was more or less a statement, and after looking at each other, at the murder board, and back, they both made a lunge for markers. He grabbed a red marker and she a blue, both making notes and changes to the timeline as they talked it out, building theory.

"She said she was at a party waitressing at the time of death," she began.

"But that party was huge, and she was a smoker, you couldn't walk within 10 yards of her and not tell. No one would have thought anything of it if she slipped out of there"

"So her car was found at East 33rd…" she traced a line on the white board, drawing the lines and connecting the dots mentally as well. The frown in her brow told Castle that she was thinking, hard. "She had plenty of time to drop it off and walk back. The party wasn't five blocks away."

"Putting her car directly between her alibi and our secondary crime scene." He finished for her; his turn to make a note on the board. He reached across her trying to write his discovery under the picture of Margret Thompson, and in his excitement, bumped right into her, hard.

"Castle!" she squeaked, her arms flying out reflexively and finding his coat. Castle, he himself put off by the harsh contact, wasn't maintaining the best balance either, and her vice-like grip on his jacket sent them both sprawling to the ground.

She fell on top of him, both hands flat on his chest, her body pressed up against his completely, face inches from his. At first both were too stunned to move, let alone speak, and that's when she felt it beneath her- the rumbling. It wasn't until she heard him did she realize- he was laughing.

She couldn't help but crack a smile herself- if only to keep her sanity. Any more of the intense eye conversation and she would have exploded. It was minutes later when their laughter subsided and neither made motion to move from their current predicament. Kate could tell herself that the laughing fit took it out of her, that she wasn't ready to move just yet, but she also knew that was untrue.

He caught her eye again as the last of the laughter in the air melted into silence and his expression was somber. He loved that laugh. That smile. The way her hair fell from its place tucked behind her ear and into her face. He wanted more of that.

More of it all the time.

There was a pang low in her chest as she felt his obvious attraction against her leg but she made no attempts to move, a pink blush rising in her cheeks. Her hand was still resting on his chest, measuring the quick rise and fall of it as they stared at each other.

The question was not what was she going to do, or he for that matter.  
It was not _what _was going to happen.

It was simply who would do it first.

Gravity.

The fundamental force of attraction that all objects with mass have for each other. Albert Einstein once said that gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.

Rick Castle and Kate Beckett would beg to differ.

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**So review?  
You know you want to.**

**ALSO- For those of you infuriated with the ending of chapter two, "Beat", Susanatc wrote a follow up to it called 'To the Victor'- her smutty version of how my chapter should have ended. The link to the story and her profile can be found on my profile under favorites. Please be kind and leave her a review with your thoughts, she DID take the time to share.**

**Albert Einstein was quite the genius, huh?**

**sof**


	8. Hindsight

**I am not going to lie, I am damn proud of this chapter.**

**Go on, read it.  
Find out why.**

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**H**

**Hindsight**

In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed home.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.

Hindsight vision, his mother told him once as a boy, is twenty-twenty.

And facing the red apartment door, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from the metaphorical rear view mirror and force himself into the present. He raised a fist to knock then dropped it before it hit wood.

Raise.  
Drop.  
Raise.  
Drop.

This sad ritual continued for another minute or so before he clenched his teeth and did it.  
He knocked.

One tap.  
One very light tap, almost as if it didn't actually happen.

_Maybe she didn't hear it_, he thought, part of him relieved and another, rather large part of him disappointed. And then the door swung open.

She stood before him, dressed in navy sweatpants and a plain white v-neck he had never seen before. Her hair was wet, and the strands that had escaped from her ponytail clung to her neck.

For some reason, she didn't look surprised to see him in the least.  
For some reason, neither of them spoke a word.

She finally broke the standstill, obviously tiring of the standing and staring routine.

He expected her to speak, to roll her eyes, maybe, shut the door in his face.  
But she did none of these things.

In hindsight, she thought, she probably should have.

She stepped forward, so they were both in the hallway, one small step at a time until she was close enough to share his breath. He stood stock still, unsure of what to expect. He felt her arms encircle his waist, and then her face pressing into his chest.

And then they were hugging.

He didn't move- still wary of the situation. That's when he felt her fingers massaging a small pattern into his back.

He lost it.

His arms fell around her body, squeezing her as hard as he dare. She was amazingly good at this hugging thing.

"Shhhh," he heard her murmur into his chest, holding on to him. Letting him hold her. He trembled a little, but held in the tears. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. He didn't let her go, and he was relieved that after what must have been 15 minutes, she didn't let him go, either.

Her hair was soaking a dark, head-shaped hole in his teeshirt, but he couldn't care less.

When his breathing slowed and lightened a little, she pulled back, only enough to look at him. His blue eyes had never looked clearer, and the sight sent a little shiver up her spine- a shiver he no doubt felt, judging by his tight hold. But tonight wasn't about that. She returned her head to the spot on his chest, happy to stay there, her arms holding him as close as he was her.

"How do you do it?" she heard him whisper, so quietly she wasn't sure if he said it, or if she just imagined it. In answer she pressed her fingers into his back again, kneading in comfort.

"It's hard. I'm not going to lie, it doesn't get easier," she responding. As comforting as she wanted to be, she wouldn't lie.

"I hate this," he responded, his voice still a soft whisper. She knew he didn't mean the hugging. "I hate it."

"Yeah," she agreed, breathily. "Children are the hardest."

In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.

In hindsight, he wouldn't change a thing.

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**Oh wow.  
You should review :)**

**softer **


	9. Interrogation

**Fact.  
Im not a fan of this one.  
Fact.  
You should read and review anyways.**

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Interrogation

Justin Tore sat in the plain white room, looking around nervously at the nothing surrounding him. His hands fiddled over the steel table, anxious. He was pulled from class by a cop, much to his confusion and his classmates amusement. He hadn't done anything wrong- he didn't think.

He sat in the room, memorizing the dots in the cheap ceiling tiles and recalling his last few days. No, nothing illegal. His first thought was that something had happened- but when the Detective sat him in the interrogation room, he realized that was not the case. He was pondering what he could have possibly done to earn this criminal treatment when the door opened, and a woman walked in.

She said nothing, and he was far too intimidated to say anything himself. She strode to the desk with an air of authority, unhooking her piece from its holster on her hip and setting the gun on the metal table with a loud clank that made him jump in his chair. She dropped her cuffs on the table unceremoniously as well, again the metal-on-metal making the hair on his arms stand up.

She seated herself in the chair across from him, slouching lazing across the back of it, her arms dangling lazily. "Justin," she spoke at last, smiling ironically.

"Y-yes?" he coughed out a reply.

"Ever been arrested?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he replied slowly, unsure of her angle.

"How old are you again?" she asked him, furrowing her brow.

"16."

"So you drive?"

"Yeah.." he was still very confused. "Excuse me for asking, but what am I doing here?"

"I was 16 once. Had a thing for bad boys. Are you a bad boy?" She asked, raising an eyebrow damn near seductively.

"Excuse me?" he choked out. "No offence, Detective, but you're a little old for me." That made her laugh. Then she stopped and stared at him, obviously still expecting an answer. When none came and the silence became almost unbearable, she spoke again.

"You a good driver?"

"Fair enough," he answered honestly.

"Do you smoke?"

"What?"

"You know, light up every once and a while?"

"No." this was absurd. _Who was this lady, and what was with the twenty questions?_

"Shoot up? Smoke some blow?"

"What?" he was officially offended. He kept sneaking glances at the gun sitting patiently on the table.

"You like that, huh?" she asked, looking from him to the piece. "You like guns?"

"N-no." This woman scared the shit out of him.

"Careful, kid, I think you're developing a stutter there. What was that?"

"Can you please tell me what this is about?" Her questions were flying at him a mile a minute.

"Do you have any tattoos?" she asked, eyeing him up and down. "Piercings?" She asked, smirking when he shifted uncomfortably under her stare.

"No…"

"You have any STD's?" She asked.

"Excuse me?" He kept asking that.

"Sexually transmitted diseases," she clarified, speaking like he was a confused six year old.

"Absolutely not," he replied, straightening in his seat.

"Believe in abstinence?"

"No," he replied, again opting to remain completely honest. She smiled, so that must have been the right answer.

"Honest. I like that."

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

"Where are you going tonight?"

"I'm taking my girlfriend to the park and then to dinner."

"Anywhere else?"

"No."

"That was a good answer. You plan on paying for dinner?"

"Yes. Please, Detective. What is this about? Why do you want to know about my girlfriend?"

"Please, she replied, standing and re-holstering her gun. "Call me Kate." He stood as well, grabbing the hand she reached towards him with and shook it. "And have Alexis home by ten, kay?" Beckett told him, winking before leading him out of the cold, white room.

* * *

**So I realize that Kate is out of character, and for that I really am sorry.**

**But review and I promise in the next one she will be.**


	10. Jade

**I am fond of this one.  
It's one of those cute ones.**

**In any case:**

**

* * *

**

**J **

**Jade**

They were...indescribable. Castle derided his lack of a better word, but for the life of him, he couldn't pick a word that did them justice.

Green, obviously, although if the light hit them a certain way he would swear up and down they were more of a hazel.

But as he hovered above her and lost himself in them, they were green.

Not emerald, no, although they sparkled like the best of them.

Simple.  
Complex, yes.  
But so simple.

Very…her.

Not as vivid as Kelly green and not as dark as forest.  
Not as blue as Pine and a little bluer than tea.

It was such a hard color to place.

He decided, after much contemplation, that the color didn't have a name.

But if he had to say, he would call it Jade. Jade green. An estuary of muted blue and vibrant green, blended to make Jade.

That's what he decides as he stands above the glass box and points.

It's small and simple, like her.  
The diamond is partially inset into the silver band and around it, flecks of jade accent the modest cut.

An inch and a half of thick glass and a few more of air under his finger, Kate's engagement ring sits.

"That one," Rick tells the clerk, who smiles at his decision and reaches into the glass display case for the small blue box inside.

All he can think about is how great it's going to look on her finger.  
How great it's going to feel against his hand when he's holding hers.

How green her eyes will look, no matter how the light hits them.

* * *

**Review?**

**Pretty please?**


	11. Kryptonite

**I kind of like this one.  
Something about it.**

**Maybe it's this music I'm listening to.**

**

* * *

**

**K**

**Kryptonite**

She couldn't remember what she was doing.

Yes, she could.

She was running into a building.  
Running up one, two, three, four, five flights of stairs.  
Running into a room.

Running right into a trap.

She knew it was a trap.  
She knew she would be met with the steel barrel of a gun in her face.  
She knew her bullet count.  
She knew she was down to one round.

Rationally, she knew she was beyond screwed.  
Irrationally? She knew it didn't matter.

She couldn't remember why she ignored rationality- it wasn't something she made a habit of.

Yes, she did.

_Castle._

Damn him.  
Damn love, damn irrationality.  
Mostly damn the man holding the gun in her face.

Beckett swung her side arm up suddenly, sending her last shot through her final obstacle before rushing the back of the room and falling to her knees in front of her partner's motionless body.

"Castle," she said, and it came out nearly a whisper. She gently rolled him over and swore, sitting him upright. "Castle," she said again, using a thumb to pull up an eyelid and searching his unresponsive eyes with her own alert ones.

Pulse.  
She dropped her hand to his neck and searched frantically for a pulse.

She found one.  
She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding and he shivered in her arms at the warmth of it on his face.

His eyes fluttered open, and the corner of his lips turned up at the sight of her.

"Kate," he managed. She felt like she was in a dream.

If he didn't look so sad and cute and _hurt_ she would have hit him.  
She was still considering it.

When did this happen?

When did he get involved, when did she get involved?  
When did her heart get so involved?

Right now her heart was busy breaking.  
Breaking into a thousand little pieces.

She rested her head against his shoulder

"Damn it, Castle," she muttered, when she felt a comforting hand on her back. She lifted her head to meet his eyes with hers. His face was covered in cuts, a few peppering his cheek and a river of dried blood down his nose and chin. A dark bruise was transitioning into a particularly spectacular shade of violet around his eye and meeting another blue bruise on his jaw.

"God damn it," she gently tried to brush some of it away, desperate to fix it.

"Kate," he murmured again, grabbing her hands gently and pulling them down, holding onto them tight. She let out a little tremble but refused to lose herself. She couldn't explain the emotions flooding her. She was relieved, she was terrified, she was devastated, she was furious, she was so relieved.

"You look…" she couldn't find the words. It broke her heart a little more. Then she let out a little laugh. "You look like hell." Why was she laughing?

The man beneath her smirked at her smile.

"The one time I wait in the car, right?" he asked. Now she couldn't stop the relieved laughter that shook her, and she had to sit herself down beside him, where they both just laughed.

Maybe she would hit him.

* * *

**So I hope the ending makes sense- it just kind of came to life for me.  
I feel like after all that, laughter is all you really have.  
And Castle would do that for her.**

**IDK.**

**Review and tell me what you think?  
It is my birthday, ya know.  
Well it was yesterday, but everyone knows you get at least three days.**

**We do birthday weeks where I'm from.**


	12. Lift

**Three guesses what **_**this **_**one is about, eyy?**

**

* * *

**

**L**

**Lift**

He watches her from his side of the steel box they are in, eyeing her carefully.  
She had had a long day.

Not only has he witnessed every excruciated twist in the case they were working, but he could read it on her. The way her shoulders tensed, the way her brow was permanently frowning. He wanted to reach out to her.

She eyed him from her side of the metaphorical line she drew between them. She could feel his gaze on her, so intense it was damn near physical. She bit her lip, forcing her mind to the case. But his eyes were still there, caressing her with the touch he obviously wanted to use. So she gravitated towards him. She had had a long day.

That was her reasoning as she fell into him, her body crashing into his with a force neither of them expected. Her head met his chest and out of instinct his arms wrapped around her small body, holding her.

She would never admit as much, but she loved how small she felt in his arms.  
How safe she felt there.

One of his hands stroked a pattern into the small of her back and the other was buried in her hair, lightly scratching right above the nape of her neck. He held her as she softened in his arms and her breathing settled to a slow pattern. He said nothing. She said nothing, either.

She pulled away long enough to tilt her head upwards, her lips meeting his.

At first he was hesitant, slow, but he got her meaning. "Mmm," he mumbled into the kiss, part of him unwilling to pull away and another forcing him to. "You're tired, Kate."

"Not that tired," she mumbled back, using the hand she tangled in his hair to pull his lips back to hers. Again he was murmuring into the kiss but didn't pull away. He knew denying her what she wanted would be futile, and he didn't have it in him to fight her.

She needed this. She didn't say as much, and she probably wouldn't, but it was true enough.

She needed this.

So instead he pulled her tighter, the feel of her irreplaceable, and pushed her against the elevator doors, gently, using a hand to balance himself above her and her arms snaked around his neck. The hand that was holding her hips against his stole away, only to push the emergency button on the elevator. The headlight turned off and the generator lights popped on, cloaking them in a soft, dim white light, and with that the elevator stopped its journey upwards.

His hand returned to her lower back, and he concentrated on her pulse point like it was his only goal in the world, the soft gasps she was making all he cared to hear.

She had had a long day.

**Me and my elevator scenes…  
I'm sorry, I can't help myself.**

**Also- the next chapter is making the rating rise, so you are warned. **


	13. More

**So this chapter is very smutty, so the rating has changed to M. **

**Since I wrote this with hindsight in mind, I included it at the beginning, and made this chapter, M, a continuation. Like hindsight, but extended version.  
I hope this makes sense *winces***

**So I am very iffy about my smut, so please be kind and if it's not your thing, skip it.**

**

* * *

**

**M**

**More (_Inferno_)  
**

_Hindsight_

In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed home.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.

Hindsight vision, his mother told him once as a boy, is twenty-twenty.

And facing the red apartment door, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from the metaphorical rear view mirror and force himself into the present. He raised a fist to knock then dropped it before it hit wood.

Raise.  
Drop.  
Raise.  
Drop.

This sad ritual continued for another minute or so before he clenched his teeth and did it.

He knocked.  
One tap.  
One very light tap, almost as if it didn't actually happen.

Maybe she didn't hear it, he thought, part of him relieved and another, rather large part of him disappointed. And then the door swung open.

She stood before him, dressed in navy sweatpants and a plain white v-neck he had never seen before. Her hair was wet, and the strands that had escaped from her ponytail clung to her neck.

For some reason, she didn't look surprised to see him in the least.  
For some reason, neither of them spoke a word.

She finally broke the standstill, obviously tiring of the standing and staring routine. He expected her to speak, to roll her eyes, maybe, shut the door in his face.

But she did none of these things.  
In hindsight, she thought, she probably should have.

She stepped forward, so they were both in the hallway, one small step at a time until she was close enough to share his breath. He stood stock still, unsure of what to expect. He felt her arms encircle his waist, and then her face pressing into his chest.

And then they were hugging.

He didn't move- still wary of the situation. That's when he felt her fingers massaging a small pattern into his back.

He lost it.

His arms fell around her body, squeezing her as hard as he dare. She was amazingly good at this hugging thing.

"Shhhh," he heard her murmur into his chest, holding on to him. Letting him hold her. He trembled a little, but held in the tears. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. He didn't let her go, and he was relieved that she didn't let him go, either.

Her hair was soaking a dark, head-shaped form in his t-shirt, but he couldn't care less.

When his breathing slowed and lightened a little, she pulled back, only enough to look at him. His blue eyes had never looked clearer, and the sight sent a little shiver up her spine- a shiver he no doubt felt, judging by his tight hold. But tonight wasn't about that. She returned her head to the spot on his chest, happy to stay there, her arms holding him as close as he was her.

"How do you do it?" she heard him whisper, so quietly she wasn't sure if he said it, or if she just imagined it. In answer she pressed her fingers into his back again, kneading in comfort.

"It's hard. I'm not going to lie, it doesn't get easier," sheresponded. As comforting as she wanted to be, she wouldn't lie.

"I hate this," he responded, his voice still a soft whisper. She knew he didn't mean the hugging. "I hate it."

"Yeah," she agreed, breathily. "Children are the hardest."

In hindsight, he shouldn't have come here.  
In hindsight, he should have stayed far, far away from this particular apartment.

In hindsight, he wouldn't change a thing.

His head was buried in her hair and he was perfectly content to stay there forever, but the hallway was cold and the apartment door wide open. Kate didn't ask, she just pulled him inside, shutting the door and returning to his arms without another word. That's when he felt it: her lips on his neck.

He was stunned at first, he thought he was hallucinating, but as she moved he realized that this was very real. She traveled up his clavicle and neck, under his mandible and along his strong jaw line. The tip of her tongue touched that soft spot right under the back of his ear and he squirmed a little, pleasure shooting through him. She continued back down his jaw and cheek, languidly, placing open-mouthed kisses as she went, before she was right there, hovering dangerously close to his lips.

"Kate, I didn't mean for-"

"Shhh," she silenced his stammered explanation. "Let me do this," she whispered, their proximity almost unbearable. Her eyes met his for a long moment where nothing was said yet everything was and then flicked down to his lips.

She rose to her tip toes- he was much taller than she when she was without heels- and brushed his lower lip with hers. Again, they met just barely, her touch light and brief, until she couldn't take it anymore.

When she finally pressed her mouth to his it was warm and inviting, and she wanted it to last forever. It was quite some time before she moved. She pulled his head down to meet hers firmly and deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth with hers as she learned about him.

What he liked, what he wanted.  
What he needed.

She was leading him backwards now, until his legs hit the couch. She pushed him onto it following with a leg supporting her on either side of his body. His hands where traveling down her back, lighting her nerves on fire with their light but needy touch. She let out a small moan into his mouth at the sensations he was creating along her spine.

"Castle," she sighed as they broke for air. He used his opportunity to trail fire and kisses down her neck, taking his time as she had. His teeth scraped lightly over her pulse point, and again she gasped.

"Clothes," she managed, tugging impatiently at his shirt. "Too many," her words were cut off my his mouth. His kisses stalled the world, she swore, and she lost herself in the touch. Her lithe fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons and ended by falling to his belt, again tugging impatiently. He tried to stand and flip her but she wouldn't let him, using her strength to hold him down. "More," she whispered in his ear.

The warm hands running up and down her back slipped under her v-neck, taking it up and over her head slowly. Her bra and his belt followed. Nothing about tonight was rushed or hurried or fast- it was a slow burn of passion and her living room was turning into an inferno.

She ground her hips against his, friction sending shivers up her spine and an ache intensifying low in her stomach.

"Oh," it was he who cried out at the contact.

How she got him out of those pants was a mystery even to her but she had and now he was pulling at hers. With great effort, she removed herself from him long enough to let them fall to the floor before finding him again. Her nails dug into his neck when she pulled him to her and he kissed her hard before she sank onto him.

Again there was that pang in her stomach.

"Oh," this time it was she.

The pace picked up as they met, finding a rhythm easily, over and over again until they were both tiptoeing along the edge of climax. She rested her forehead on his, their eyes locked. "More, Castle," she said, and he complied, and with that they were both thrown off the ledge and into release.

He buried his face in her neck, happy to rest there while they both caught their breath. She didn't move to get up, and he wasn't about to pull her off of him. The sound of their labored breathing was all either of them could hear. She measured his breathing below her and only when it had normalized did she pull his head up to meet hers. This time the kiss was a deep caress and she put all of what little energy she had left into it, hoping he got the message she was so desperately trying to convey.

She rolled off of him and he slipped onto the floor, dragging the throw draped over the couch with him. She followed, a small, content smile on her face as she did so, letting him pull her closer to him and under the covers as they lay on her living room floor. He was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his leg propped up, escaping the confines of the brown blanket. She curled up beside him, tracing patterns on his bare chest as she watched him think.

"Say something," she murmured, quietly.

"I'm just…processing." He turned from the spot on the ceiling he had been concentrating so intently on and faced her. After another moment of silent staring, his body followed suit so he was on his side, facing her.

His finger went up and traced the line of her face, smiling a little.

"I think you just took advantage of me," he said, making her smile as well. She craned her neck and planted a kiss on his chin.

"I think I'm going to do it again, later," she replied.

"Is that a threat?" he kissed her shoulder.

"A promise." It was his turn to smile. She curled up closer to him, longing for the feeling of his body, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.

"I think I'm okay with that." And he held her until they both drifted off into sleep, comfortable on her living room floor.

* * *

**So I hope that wasn't too awful.  
This chapter goes out to Susanatc.**

**Now go write December, ey? **

**Review, cause it's still my birthday (_sorta_).**


	14. November

**This may be my favorite.  
I know I say that about all of them, but this time I mean it.**

**Really.**

**

* * *

****N**

**November**

Kate woke, the sun intruding into the bedroom. She yawned, and instead of getting up like she knew she should, she rolled over into the body beside her, snuggling further into the warmth of the comforter. The man beside her shifted slightly. "Three more minutes," she mumbled, reaching for the covers when his movement caused them to fall a little. When she heard no answer, but a soft chuckle, she took that as acceptance and let the sleep pull her back in.

It was then she felt it:

The scratching on her chin.

She squirmed, completely involuntarily, and a small giggle escaped.

Giggle.  
Kate Beckett did not giggle.  
Not ever.  
Not for any reason.

But she was a girl.  
And she was very ticklish.

"Stop that," she mumbled again, snaking an arm around the white pillow she was using, protectively. The light itch continued, traveling from her chin to her cheek and then down her neck. Another giggle escaped. "Stop!" she said between fits of laughter, attempting to sound serious but to no effect.

"Good morning," Rick told her, still running kisses up and down her neck, lightly.

She grinned despite herself and turned onto her back, looking up at the man hovering above her. He had his arms holding his weight on either side of her head and his legs tangled with hers. "I was trying to sleep," she told him, trying to sound stern.

"I know. It was very un-Beckett-like, so I had to investigate," he told her earning another beautiful smile and musical laugh. When she turned her head, her hand threading her hair a bit, he planted another kiss on her exposed neck, brushing his chin against her deliberately.

She reached up with a hand, grabbing his chin, loosely. "You need to shave," she informed him, to which he replied with a kiss to her lips.

"Nope," he told her, smiling at her confusion. She maintained her hold on his chin a moment longer, scratching at his scruff lightly with her fingernails, lovingly.

"Why?" she asked, her bottom lip finding home between her front teeth.

"No-Shave November."

"Excuse me?"

"No-Shave November. The glorious month where shaving is not expected. From men, that is," he eyed her with a grin that was contagious. She released him and he planted a kiss on her jaw. She arched into the touch involuntarily, and she could feel the accomplished smiles in his kiss. "The boys and I are making it into a competition. Whoever has the longest beard by December 1st."

"I have to put up with that thing for a whole month?" She asked.

"Yep," he continued his ministrations. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, his eyes wandering to her body below him.

The hand that was once holding his chin found his arm beside her, her nails again working them up and down, soothingly. "What if I don't like it?" she asked him, curiously.

Her free hand found the nape of his neck, massaging with her nails until they were buried in his hair, pulling him closer and letting out a soft gasp when his mouth found the spot right above her clavicle.

"It'll grow on you," he replied without missing a beat, and she couldn't help but smile at the pun.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed reading it HALF as much as I did writing it.**

**ALSO- No-Shave November? TOTALLY a thing.  
ALSO ALSO- please review for me?  
ALSO-ALSO-ALSO- thank you for all your awesome reviews- seriously.**

**You are feeding my addiction, and trust me, I like to consider this a borderline healthy alternatives to other addictions I could be fighting at my oh-so impressionable age.  
Instead of getting into all kinds of shanagens, I am writing. It's cheaper to support, too.  
My parents have no idea how lucky they are.  
Just saying. **

**Thanks.  
Softer **


	15. Ordinary

**I hope this chapter makes sense- I've got a whole 'progression of time' thing going on in this chapter, I hope that is clear and easy to follow.  
Me?**

**I'm a fan of this one.**

**I mean I don't hate it.

* * *

****O**

**Ordinary**

A deafening 'CRACK' sliced through the thick ambience of the bustling city and a brief flash of light accompanied it. The frenzy of nature was encouraged by the frantic verve of traffic and pedestrians, the weather wreaking havoc in the night. And rain poured onto the city of New York.

Kate Beckett stumbled into the apartment, with Castle right behind her. They were both dripping water onto the floor of his foyer but he couldn't care less. When she stopped and he didn't, he bumped right into her, and he felt her shiver. "Here, let me get you a towel." He made his way to the hall linen closet and grabbed a towel, wrapping up her tiny body in its warmth.

"Shit," she muttered. "I am getting water everywhere."

"Don't worry about it, I don't care," he assured her, leading her now towel-wrapped body to the hall bathroom. "You go in here and dry off, I'm going to see if I can't find you something to wear while your clothes dry, hmm?"

"Castle, I am _not _wearing your clothes," she told him, firmly.

"Well you are welcome to stay in the ones you're wearing, but I'm going to have to ask for the towel back, and you should know your shirt is see-through. Coffee?" he asked, releasing her and running the words off so fast she could barely register. She peeked under the yellow towel she had wrapped around herself. He was right, she could see right through her soaked blouse.

She grabbed his arm as he made his way past her to the kitchen, stopping him. He arched an eyebrow.

"Fine," she muttered, slipping into the bathroom. "But if you come back with a pair of boxers and a wife beater, so help me I will-"

"I know," he assured her, and she stared at him a moment, determining his honesty before disappearing completely into the bathroom. He guessed he passed her test, and went to see if he could find a pair of sweats that would fit her tiny body.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_This is not ordinary, _Castle thought.

Kate Beckett sat, curled up with a coffee, on his couch. She had been fitted with the finest- a pair of grey sweat pants with 'writer' down the left leg and a Ravens t-shirt that hung loosely over her shoulders.

_This is so much better than ordinary._

He couldn't stop staring at her.  
Her in his clothes.  
He wanted her to always wear them.

Always.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_When had this become ordinary? _Kate mused.

She leaned up against one couch arm facing him and he on the opposite one facing her, their legs tangling in the middle.

He was reading a book; she was reading a book.  
They sat and read with a very comfortable silence between them, content with each other's presence.

When had she gotten so comfortable here?  
In his house.  
On his couch.

With him.

She tilted her head to the side, absorbing the sight of her bare feet lost between his socked ones.

_She liked this ordinary._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

_This is ordinary._

Rick Castle was leaning against one arm of the couch, his legs taking up the rest of it, a pillow tucked behind his head and a book propped open in one hand, almost skillfully so. Next to him lay Kate Beckett, completely outstretched beside him, her head on his chest, eyes following the lines on the page as he held it so they could both see.

He was a faster reader than she, a hazard of the occupation, but he didn't mind waiting for her to finish.  
Her heels were tucked under the table, her wine glass half-full on the end table and her socks lost somewhere at the opposite end of the couch.

When this had become the norm, he wasn't sure.

_But he could get used to this ordinary._

_

* * *

_**Did you not hate it as much as I did? Didn't? Did.**

**Loving the response I am getting from these one shots- KEEP IT UP.  
Review. **

**ALSO I need to point out that these are not connected in any way, unless of course stated in the AN.  
****Just wanted to throw that out there.**

**So review with your thoughts? :)**

**softer**


	16. Please

**oh this one is M for safety (don't want to step on toes) (I think I used that idiom correctly...)(...and I call myself a writer...)**  
**Anyways I think this will be my last update for a few days-I'm off to the beach until thursday-ish. :)**  
**But I promise to come back with great chapters for you (and hopefully a better tan!) :)  
Maybe I will be so festive as to throw a little marathon or something.**  
**I think that's what they call them.**

**Anyways.**

**I'm going to stop rambling (Most of this AN is just me talking to myself, I realize.)**

**Onwards.**

* * *

**P**

**Please**

Sun streamed in through the curtains, certainly not unwelcome but not asking permission, anyways. The sounds of the city waking could be heard below them, and a cool spring breeze blew through the open window, light and a chill flooding the bedroom. Rick Castle inhaled, his eyes opening sleepily as he smiled to himself. Curled up beside him was Kate. His arm was around her waist as she slept, facing away from him, spooning shamelessly.

What made him smile was the way her arm fell over his, her fingers lacing with those of the hand pressed against her stomach, holding him there. She was holding him holding her.

Somehow that made sense.

The smell of vanilla she left- on the sheets, on him- was even stronger when he buried his face in her neck, using his tongue to trace patterns on the smooth skin below her ear. Her hand tightened on his and she mumbled some incoherent sleep talk but he only smiled into his ministrations and continued.

His fingers squeezed hers before slowly dropping from her fairly loose grip and her stomach, slipping under her camisole to find skin beneath his fingertips. He traced the plane of her stomach with his fingers, his touch light but steady, languidly exploring south until it hit the inevitable cotton barrier. She was awake now, the moan of approval he heard proving as much, and the hand once entwined with his found home curled around his hair as he lowered his mouth to her neck once again.

"Good morning," he told her, smiling into the greeting.

"G'morning," she replied, sleepily, the emphasis falling on the last syllable. His hand lay flat on her bare stomach, his thumb caressing slightly, and again she made a low sound of appreciation.

"Hmmm," he hummed into her ear, his lips pressed against her skin so she felt the vibrations. The shiver that escaped her was a pleasant return. "Please," she dragged out the words, and his reaction pressed against the back of her leg.

"What do you want, Kate?" he asked her, his voice low and his breath hot on her skin.

"I think you know what I want, Rick," she replied, equally as throatily, teasing his brown locks with the hand threaded through his hair. His mouth once again found her neck, planting soft, deep kisses there, her body responding by arching against his.

"Yes," he ran his thumb across the underside of her breast, and she took a sharp intake of breath he not only heard but felt with his hand on her abdomen. His hand slowly moved upward again, finding her bare beneath his hand. "Yes."

"Please, Rick," she sighed, tension wound like a tight coil behind her words.

"Please what?" he asked, and she could feel the smile against her skin when he spoke. She turned in his arms to face him, disappointed at the loss of the warmth his hand created on her sensitive skin but pleased with the situation nonetheless. She snuggled into the crook that his strong jaw and neck created, her eyes falling closed and her head finding home on his chest, an arm draped lazily over his naked body.

"Please dear lord make me some coffee."

* * *

**So review?  
I need to have something to get me through the next few days!**

**softer **


	17. Quake

**I'm not sure where this came from, what it's about or what ever happened to make her so upset, but alas, here it is.**

**I think I have this sick obsession with comfort pieces. Anyways. This one isn't as happy as the others, just warning you. For me, at least, this is kinda dark. (But probably not really dark cause I am just a big baby).**

**Q**

**Quake**

She was shivering.

Shuddering, more like.

Her shoulders shook as she was overcome by another overwhelming wave of emotions she couldn't stop. She felt like the shore at the end of the day- the ocean crashing upon in, day in, day out. Wearing down the sand and eroding with every crest and trough.

She stood in the cold spray of her shower, her arms wrapped around her own naked body, protectively. The water was beating down hard, with water pressure she usually enjoyed, and she couldn't move away, even when it began to hurt. She even kind of liked it in a masochistic sort of way.

That's when she stopped feeling it.

She could fell the warmth that could only belong to another human near, closer and closer until strong arms were encircling her body and the rock solid wall of a man's chest was pressed against her back.

Holding her.  
The way she loved but could never ask for.

Internally she was glad he never made her.

He blocked the freezing water from her, letting it hit his back instead, and did his best to warm her. He used to wonder why she did this to herself.

She numbed the pain before admitting to it.

Then again he remembered the woman he fell in love with.  
Not exactly the let's-sit-down-and-talk-about-our-feelings-sort of girl.  
Not that he would have it any other way.

People cope in strange ways, he told himself.

His mouth found he shoulder.  
It wasn't sexual, although in a few hours it would be, but reassuring.

Loving.

He held it there a long moment, until Beckett stopped quaking, until she stilled in his comforting arms.

Better.

He used his foot to turn the water to hot, and the temperature changed drastically to warm, and he felt the hard sigh she released when he turned them so she was in it. Her shoulders shook but this time out of relief.

Much better.

He planted another solid kiss on her shoulder, and reached for the shampoo.

**So the story is up for interpretation- I myself, even as the creator, cannot really settle on why she is so upset. So take this like it is, maybe swish it around a little in your mouth, and decide for yourself. **

**And then review. **

**Lather, rinse, and repeat for faster chapters.**


	18. Referee

**This is set somewhere in the future, after the Castle/ Beckett friendship grows a little deeper.**

**R**

**Referee**

She was always playing referee.

Castle would do this, Beckett would say that, and it was her job to make sure it was a clean game.

That, and that it didn't carry on for too long. I mean damn, only so much banter can happen before someone scores a goal.

So when Beckett comes down to her lab, she isn't surprised. No, she got over the surprise months ago. Years, even. No, she just gave her the knowing eye she had gotten so good at and motioned for the autopsy table.

She could have become a therapist instead of a city-employed ME and make a hell of a lot more money for hell of a lot less work. She made sure to tell Kate this, who only rolled her eyes in return.

It's when Castle starts to come down to the freezer that is the morgue when she is caught by surprise.

"Lanie," he greets her.

"Castle. To what do I owe the pleasure?" the back and forth is amicable with the undertones of flirtation but nothing more.

"Can I get your advice?"

"I need to start charging by the hour," she said, emphatically, punctuating her point by pointing the scalpel she held in her hand at him. His arms went up in mock self-defense. "Between the two of you I'd make a fortune."

"The two of us?" he inquired, suspecting who she was talking about. She looked away, busying herself with the corpse before her, and he realized he wasn't going to get anything more than that from her. "You're her best friend, Lanie, you more than anyone should know-"

But Lanie had had enough of this.

They were in denial.  
The both of them.

"Damn it, Castle," she slammed down the scalpel, metal hitting metal with a loud, atrocious clang. "When will you get it through your thick skull?" His furrowed brow told her he was confused. "I'm not her best friend," she told him, with a slight shake of her head as her demeanor softened.

Pause.  
Pause.  
Hard Pause.

"You are."

He just stared at her a moment, a lost look on his face as though she just sprouted wings and started speaking German to him. His mouth made to form words but none came.

"I know I'm pretty, Castle, but you better get your ass back out there, apologize, and make it better for her or so help me-"

"Yeah," he finally managed. "I gotta go, uhh, you know… Make it better…" And with those words he was gone.

She huffed a breath, a mix of victory and relief. That needed to be done. She picked up her scalpel, positioned it over the corpse that laid before her, and began to cut.

"See what I mean?" She said, partly to herself and party to the deceased. "They are hopeless."

And after a moment:

"I'm tired of playing referee."

**Leave a review?  
This one isn't my favorite, but it will suffice I suppose.**

**Tell me all about it, it takes just a second :)**


	19. Snowcones

**Here you are, dears- I had planned to post last night but by the time I had finished and was genuinely happy about it, my internet went AWOL.**

**Sorry, Bugg, btw. Didn't mean to leave you hanging. **

**So this is just a super duper fluffy piece- I was drowning in all the fluff.  
Not that I'm complaining, I'm a fan of it.  
Anyways.**

**Thanks, Ariel1179 for inadvertently inspiring a little bit of this. I hope you don't mind. heh. =]

* * *

****S**

**Snowcones**

Rick relaxed, letting his weight fall against the back of the bench and his arm fall across the shoulders of the woman beside him. His hand dangled on the other side of her, fingers tracing a pattern into her arm as his free hand balanced a paper cup overflowing with shaved ice and artificial flavoring.

Kate let her head fall on his shoulder, falling into the shape of his side she was convinced was made with her in mind, relishing the feel of his arm pulling her closer. His breath was hot and ever-present on her forehead, the slow in and out of his inhalation causing the loose hairs on her head to blow out a bit. She hid her smile in shaved ice and artificial flavoring.

Her hand reached for the one draped around her, lacing her fingers with his in a way that should have been awkward but somehow wasn't. She felt his lips, cold from the frozen treat, on her temple, unmoving. The simple gesture made her shiver, and it wasn't just the chill.

She pulled away, only enough to turn her head, looking up at him. "Your lips are blue," she informed him, matter-of-factly. Then her face was tilting.

Tilting up, up, and then next thing she knew the hand entwined with hers was pulling them closer until there was no space between them.

"Mmmm," he murmured into the kiss, his tongue sliding against her bottom lip, asking for the entrance she gladly gave him. At last they broke, his lips still hovering above hers when he spoke. "You taste like strawberries."

She smiled, her lips hardly brushing his as she did so, her nose pressed against his ever so slightly. They moved closer and closer, their foreheads now touching but their lips still only just, and she watched him turn into two as her vision doubled at the angle.

"There's two of you," she informed him, for a second looking confused.

"More for you to look at," he joked with a saucy waggle of his eyebrows, earning another wide grin and a musical laugh to match it. His lips ghosted over hers, playfully, and she nipped at his bottom one, his turn to smile. "You're beautiful."

"All one of me, huh?" She teased, her finger finding the funny button on the side of his waist. He wriggled a little at the poke.

"God help me if there we two of you," he told her. "I would never win an argument."

"You never win an argument now," she reasoned, burrowing her face in his neck, enjoying the warmth there.

"Although it could have its perks," he said, obviously taking deep thought into the light comment. She couldn't see his face but imagined the pensive look he wore when he thought too hard. "One of you could go fight crime and the other could stay at home with me all day."

Kate shook her head against his chest. "I'd get jealous."

"You'd be better looking," he assured her.

"I'd be better looking than myself?"

"You would. And better in bed."

"You'd sleep with the other me?" She lifted her head to catch his eye, pretending to be appalled.

"Well she wouldn't be at home with me making _crafts_," he told her, amused.

"I might have to kick my ass," she mused, again resting her head against him, taking another taste of her snowcone. After a beat of silence she laughed to herself, rather abruptly. "That made more sense in my head."

They both sat on the bench in Central Park, falling into a comfortable silence as the conversation dropped. He took another bite of his snowcone, as did she, and they didn't bother with words. And so began the ritual of Sunday afternoon. They watched people in the park, silently musing to themselves about their lives and their families or lack thereof. She painted pretty pictures of optimism and he a dark past threaded with mystery.

She hoped they never had to see what she had. What she did.

He hoped they got to have what he did- find the happiness he stumbled upon.  
Well, technically he forced himself into it, but the sentiment was the same.

He wondered if the other people in the park were making a story for them; he and Kate.

It was long after the conversation had expired did either of them speak again, and it was he who broke the easy quiet. "I would love you more."

And again she was hiding her smile in shaved ice and artificial flavoring.

* * *

**See? I needed gills after this one. **

**I think that made sense. **

**Anyways I really am sorry if anyone is out of character, although I thought I did fairly well there (my opinion may be only a tad bias).**

**Please review?**

**It means the world and strawberry snowcones.**

**PS- T will be smutty! hehe.**


	20. Ticklish

**T**

**Ticklish**

**NOTE: this is another continuation- this time of N, November. Please note that I put chapter N at the beginning of this chapter to make it flow correctly. T follows afterwards.**

N

November

Kate woke, the sun intruding into the bedroom. She yawned, and instead of getting up like she knew she should, she rolled over into the body beside her, snuggling further into the warmth of the comforter. The man beside her shifted slightly. "Three more minutes," she mumbled, reaching for the covers when his movement caused them to fall a little. When she heard no answer, but a soft chuckle, she took that as acceptance and let the sleep pull her back in.

It was then she felt it:  
The scratching on her chin.

She squirmed, completely involuntarily, and a small giggle escaped.

Giggle.  
Kate Beckett did not giggle.  
Not ever.  
Not for any reason.

But she was a girl.  
And she was very ticklish.

"Stop that," she mumbled again, snaking an arm around the white pillow she was using, protectively. The light itch continued, traveling from her chin to her cheek and then down her neck. Another giggle escaped. "Stop!" she said between fits of laughter, attempting to sound serious but to no effect.

"Good morning," Rick told her, still running kisses up and down her neck, lightly.

She grinned despite herself and turned onto her back, looking up at the man hovering above her. He had his arms holding his weight on either side of her head and his legs tangled with hers. "I was trying to sleep," she told him, trying to sound stern.

"I know. It was very un-Beckett-like, so I had to investigate," he told her earning another beautiful smile and musical laugh. When she turned her head, her hand threading her hair a bit, he planted another kiss on her exposed neck, brushing his chin against her deliberately.

She reached up with a hand, grabbing his chin, loosely. "You need to shave," she informed him, to which he replied with a kiss to her lips.

"Nope," he told her, smiling at her confusion. She maintained her hold on his chin a moment longer, scratching at his scruff lightly with her fingernails, lovingly.

"Why?" she asked, her bottom lip finding home between her front teeth.

"No-Shave November."

"Excuse me?"

"No-Shave November. The glorious month where shaving is not expected. From men, that is," he eyed her with a grin that was contagious. She released him and he planted a kiss on her jaw. She arched into the touch involuntarily, and she could feel the accomplished smiles in his kiss. "The boys and I are making it into a competition. Whoever has the longest beard by December 1st."

"I have to put up with that thing for a whole month?" She asked.

"Yep," he continued his ministrations. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, his eyes wandering to her body bellow her.

The hand that was once holding his chin found his arm beside her, her nails again working them up and down, soothingly. "What if I don't like it?" she asked him, curiously.

Her free hand found the nape of his neck, massaging with her nails until they were buried in his hair, pulling him closer and letting out a soft gasp when his mouth found the spot right above her clavicle.

"It'll grow on you," he replied without missing a beat, and she couldn't help but smile at the pun.

The light sensation the soft scruff on his chin was creating was now traveling down the flat plane of her bare abdomen, his lips touching her skin every once and a while as he continued downward. He traced his tongue around her navel, playfully, earning a shiver and a small sound of feeble self-control, before planting his lips there and blowing a raspberry.

Laughter rang out through the quiet morning air and she squirmed under him in the most delightful fashion, doing her best to get away from his lips and stay there at the same time. "Castle!" she squeaked, a little shell shocked, the vibrations, although over, still tingling, ever-present on her stomach. She felt the smile in the way his facial hair scraped lightly against her skin, upward in an accomplished grin as he planted a soft kiss there before moving on.

Her hands left his hair and found the sheets, clutching them, trying to still herself as laughter shook her. "Castle," she tried again, her voice coming out shaky despite her efforts to keep it even. Even then, it sounded like a warning.

Neither of them bothered with clothes the night before, so when he continued moving, no inevitable cotton barrier came. He hovered there a moment, letting the hair on his chin tickle her most sensitive spot lightly, his hot breath spreading over her. She wriggled in kind, letting out a growl that was mixed with excited laughter and impatience. He couldn't help but chuckle when one of her hands left the sheets, threading his hair, rather roughly. She didn't seem to know what to do with herself.

"Make up your mind," he told her, laughing, the vibrations causing her to tighten her hold on his head, damn near involuntarily.

"Touch me already," she whipped back, and although he couldn't see it, the infliction in her voice told him it came through clenched teeth. He lifted his eyes enough to see her- her head thrown back and eyes slammed shut as she tried to compose herself, self-control evaporating like a puddle of water on a dry summer night.

It may have been the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

His fingers traveled down her waist, feather-light and torturously slow until they rest at her hips, scraping his nails there, again very lightly, before gripping them so she wouldn't move. He lifted his lidded eyes once again to make sure her eyes were still shut to find they were.

And then he lowered his mouth.

She cried out, her back arching as found the bundle of nerves he was aiming for. If she pulled any harder on his hair it would all fall out, but it only egged him on as he continued, working her quickly to her peak before giving her release.

He didn't stop, working her through her orgasm before traveling upwards again, barely skimming her stomach and breast before claiming her lips with his, eager for the contact. Her mouth was just open in a way that allowed her to breathe without losing contact, leaving him perfectly capable of nibbling her bottom lip, planting languid kisses of his own anywhere he could reach.

When she seemed to regain basic motor functions, her arm lifted from its limp position on the bed and snaked around his waist. This time it was her fingertips running down the toned chest above her, snickering at the sharp intake of breath he took when she followed his happy trail, along with the sensitive nerves there, with a fingernail, lightly.

"Careful," he warned her, placing another lazy kiss to her mouth. "I'm ticklish." It was only as she grasped him that she caught his eye, an evil glint playing in hers, an equally wry smile forming at her lips.

* * *

**Please leave me a review :)**


	21. Ubiquitous

**My first time working this angle. I hope I did it justice.**

**U**

**Ubiquitous **

She was all always there. Always.

First day of school?  
She was there, making one of those magnificent breakfasts and quadruple checking her book bag.

First date?  
She was there, wearing a hole in the floor just inside the front door.

First breakup?  
A tub of Money Business ice cream in one hand and the 'Friends' box set in the other.

She was there for a lot of firsts.

With school supplies, with comfort food, with Band-Aids, with that smile she was never without.

Still was, too.

For training at the academy, her first gun fight, the first time she killed a man, her first collar. First time she fell in love, first time she lost a teammate, the first of many trips to the ER. The first time Castle broke her heart, the time he fixed it back. Some pieces were missing but the ones she had left- they belonged to him. She was there for all of it.

Sure, her mother's physical sense of being was long gone, and her body six feet under, but her voice- her voice followed Kate Beckett around like a shadow, ever present.

Universal.

Kate leaned her head on the cold cement of the gravestone, a small chill rising the flesh of the nape of her neck at the sensation. Beneath her, the grass, moist with dew, was soaking through her jeans from where she sat but she didn't care much about that. But the time she had arrived that morning there were already fresh flowers and she knew her father had been there already.

She reached out to the gardenia's, brushing the pad of her thumb over one of the soft, white pedals.

She herself brought a bouquet of gerbera daisies, her mother's favorite.

She sat, her head resting backwards on her mother's tombstone, fingers threading through the green grass, talking. She told her mother about work, about Ryan and his new girlfriend. "I think they are getting pretty serious," Lanie and Esposito "Lanie won't tell me, but I'm just sure there is something going on," and about work.

And Castle. There is a lot of talk about Castle. Kate can't help the small smile that creeps onto her face as she talk about him, spinning the ring on her finger around with her thumb out of habit.

It's not an engagement ring, no, but it was sure as hell starting to feel like one. She knew when she accepted it- "A promise," he called it- that one day it would be replaced by one.

"I like him, Mom," she says, the admission faint in the foggy morning air. "I love him."

She tasted the words, the first time she's spoken them aloud. It was true and she had known it for a long time- she was pretty sure he did, too, but she hasn't said it yet. After a moment of thought, she said: "One day, maybe I will bring him along."

One-way conversation of his family ensued. Martha's new play was discussed. "The reviews were brilliant, and she scored a run with a major theater company because of it." Alexis's new boyfriend was critiqued. "I ran a background check this time. Don't tell Castle, though, he'd never let me live it down." And then after some consideration: "I think I love her, too." This admission came with much less hesitation, and Kate didn't seem bothered by it at all. It was true enough, and it was no secret. She did.

"I think I love all of them."

Johanna, the ubiquitous voice that she was, only laughed a musical laugh that Kate often missed. "That's what families do, Katie," the voice said. "They love each other."

* * *

**This one is very close to me, and I hope to do more in the future, so please leave a comment with your thoughts, I would appreciate it deeply. Thanks.**

**sof**


	22. Verve

**V**

**Verve**

* * *

Central Park was alive. It wasn't simple there to see, it was the place you went to see and smell and watch and _feel. _There was this spirit- this verve about the place. It kept the children laughing and the couples in love and every teenage girl with a camera happy. It was loud- loud with sounds and laughter and screams and chatter. Loud with color and with the heavy gusts of wind that fall brought. Loud with life.

Kate Beckett sat on one of the benches lining the entrance to Greywacke Arch. Beside her, Rick Castle was tearing bread into little bits. She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm. This was his idea in the first place, dragging her out of bed to come to the park.

"_It's fall," he told her, with big eyes she refused to meet. The second she did, she knew it would be the end of her resolve. She was sprawled out on their bed, the white sheets covering up to her belly button, a long leg escaping the confines. He was lying beside her, his hair looked like it always did after good sex- disheveled, sticking up in ways that shouldn't be possible, inventing a few cardinal directions. She stared at the ceiling, pretending to ignore him._

_That was increasingly hard considering the way his hand was tracing patterns on her bare midriff, his lips on her shoulder between words. "It's gorgeous, there will be some shows circulating, I'm sure of it." She looked at him, skeptically. "Please?" _

_He rose to his knees on the bed, clutching a pillow to his naked body, hope and excitement in his big blue eyes. She gave in and looked, knowing she was going to lose this one. She saw him, bouncing slightly, almost like a little child on Christmas morning. She wanted him to move the pillow, but she didn't say that, just arched an eyebrow, expectantly. She may lose, but she wasn't going to make it easy. _

"_We could feed the pigeons," he suggested, earning the beautiful smile he had been angling for all morning._

"_Fiiiiine," she sighed, standing, the white sheet abandoned. She felt his eyes follow her to the bathroom where she disappeared behind the door. He jumped up to follow her himself, but he got the door in his face._

"_C'mon, Kate!"_

"_No!" he heard her laughter through the door, along with her muffled response. "You want to go to the _park._"_

And so here they sat, bodies touching, ever slightly, as she leaned into him. He handed her some of the torn up bread bits, and they tossed the pieces into the street. She watched in wonder as the birds flocked, gathering like starving animals to devour the food. Two got in a tuff over a particular piece, until a third came, ended the fight and flew off with the bread.

When they ran out of bread and all the birds lost interest, they sat, content to watch people pass by. They made up stories for each one, taking turns spinning tales of their lives, their families, their destinations. Eventually it was just him, whispering his stories into her ear while she lost herself in them.

They had shifted- she was now leaning against the metal arm of the bench, her legs bent and her feet planted on the other side of him, his hands on her legs, comfortingly. She dipped her head so the side of it met his shoulder, his nose in her hair as he spoke to her.

"We should do this again," she told him, smile a genuine smile that sent a tidal wave of warmth to his heart. He rubbed her knee, lovingly.

"Sometime soon."

"Yeah," she whispered back.

"80 years- Same place, same time?" he asked her. She scrunched up her nose.

"Too long."

"And you call _me _the impatient one!"

"I would be 105, Castle."

"I would wheel you out here." He indicated with his hands pushing a wheelchair.

"You would be -" But he silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips, which curled into a smile. "How about 40 years from now?"

"You drive a hard bargain, detective," he told her, earning another smile when his lips found her cheek. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. "Me. You. 40 years."

He pulled away so he could see her eyes.

"Right here." His arms tightened around her, indicating what he meant.

"You'll bring the bread?"

* * *

**Sorry this took so long, folks. My muse went on Vacation.**

**It's back, though, so no worries.**

**If you review, it will stay.**

**Just throwing that out there. **


	23. Warning

**WARNING: Fluff and heavy movie referencing will ensue**

**W**

**Warning

* * *

**

Rick looked at the woman in his arms. She was so small there, and he would never say so out loud, he had grown too fond of his limbs for that, but he loved the way she seemed to shrink when he held her. Like he could protect her from anything. He knew, of course, that in reality, things were quite the opposite. He couldn't save money on his electric bill, let alone another human being, let alone her. But he could protect her from heartbreak. He could protect her from that, at least.

They were at the loft- Alexis upstairs no doubt sound asleep given the late hour and Martha most likely ending the third act at the Red. The only light in the living room emanated from the television, where James Stewart silently chased Kim Novak up the Mission San Juan Bautista's bell tower, 'mute' in green glowing letters at the bottom of the screen. The two laid on the couch, Rick with his back against the couch and Kate with her back against his chest, his arm draped over her waist and fingers entwined with hers, hiding just under the hem of her shirt. The only sounds now where of her soft snoring, only every minute or so, and his light breathing.

He watched her in awe, feeling her stomach rising and falling underneath their fingertips.

He loved her.

He hadn't told her that yet- but he knew right then he wouldn't be able to hold it back anymore. He had repressed it deep inside himself, using every ounce of self-control to contain the three words inside of him, but no longer could he remain silent. They had been friends for years and lovers for months- it was bound to happen. It's practically expected by now. He should be able to tell her.

"Are you staring at me?" she mumbled, pulling the hand laced with hers and the arm attached tighter around her body. "I'm cold." She said, thankfully changing subjects. "Get covers." Even in her sleep she was bossing him around, but the sleep she was still slipping in and out of slurred her words, making it hard to take her seriously.

"I'm not warm enough?" he asked her, right into her ear The feeling of his breath on her skin, where her nerves were so sensitive, made her shiver, and he knew it wasn't the cold.

"Castle, get some covers," she commanded again, only it came out more like 'Cas'le get some co'rsss."

"How about we get to bed?" he asked her, seriously this time.

"Too comfy," she mumbled back, pressing farther in to his chest and burring her face in the couch pillow.

"You're going to regret it in the morning," he warned her.

"Maybe you should wear lipstick if you're going to act like my mother," she mumbled, determined to go back to sleep. His only response was a light chuckle and the slightest caress on her bare midsection. She hummed her approval of the touch, and after a long moment of silence, when he was almost sure she was asleep, she spoke again. "You'll be here when I wake up?" she asked him, her words still slurring a little.

"Of course," he promised, dipping his head to plant a kiss right below her ear, earning another involuntary hum.

"Then I won't regret it." He smiled at her answer, and he didn't know what devilish force compelled him to speak again, let alone say what he said, but he did.

"Kate," he mumbled in her ear, relying heavily on the fact that she was still half-asleep.

"Yeah babe?" she asked him breathily, finally rolling around to face him, her eyes coming to his chest instead. Either she didn't care or she had intended for it, because she just snaked her arms around his waist, burying her head in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It was cruel of him to talk to her and expect coherent answers.

"I love you."

"What?" If she was sleepy before she was apparently wide awake now. Her head shot up, eyes open wide and mouth slightly a gap. Again he found her abrupt surprise- and was that anger in her eyes?- hard to take seriously, her hair unruly and her shirt disheveled, half-unbuttoned.

"What?" he asked, immediately defensive.

"You can't just _say _that Castle. You can't just _drop _that bomb on me without some kind of warning!" Yep, anger.

Kate was attacked with emotions. She wasn't even ready to be awake yet, let alone process that. Those words, the words she had waited months to hear, the words she was too afraid to say out loud. The conditions were perfect- yes. Lights out, her favorite Hitchcock movie on the TV, wrapped in her best friends arms in the privacy of their own home.

His home, she meant.

"Well here is your warning. I'm warning you, I'm about to tell you I love you."

"Castle!" she hit him on the chest, exasperated. "You can't just pop in with a warning like that. I need a warning!"

"You want me to warn you that I'm about to warn you that I'm going to tell you I love you?"

She seemed to consider this. "Yes."

"I'll remember that next time," he informed her, matter-of-fact-ly.

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Go back to sleep."

"Right," she said, her body relaxing as she sank back into the leather couch and him. It was only when silence had settled and she had gotten comfortable on his chest did he run a finger through her hair, tucking a stray wavy strand behind her ear, deliberately.

"Kate," he whispered, unsure if she was awake or not. She looked up at him, her head unmoving but her eyes locked on to his, and he knew she was wide awake now. "I'm warning you that I'm about to warn you that I'm going to tell you I love you."

The slightest nod of her head made him smile, and she craned her neck to kiss him, missing and landing on his chin but too sleepy to care.

"I love you too, Castle," and with those words, finally out there for each other to hear and know and feel- silence lapsed again. Just when he was sure he heard a snore, she spoke one last time. "Where are the damn covers?"

* * *

**Oh, that was soon, huh?  
I felt bad for skipping all those days.**

**I really don't know where this came from.  
I hope it was all in-character.**

**Please review either way.  
Really.  
Please. **


	24. Xena

**FACT.  
I hate this one.**

**With a passion burning inside my soul. **

**Just throwing that out there.  
But Y is going to be fabulous, so I will make up for this crap. **

X  
Xena

"Castle," Kate greeted, entering his study, closing the door with a soft click behind her. He stopped his typing, looking up and shutting his laptop, more than happy to give her his undivided attention.

"Hey," he said back, leaning back in his chair and allowing her room to step between him and the desk. She did so, scooting onto the edge of the desk and seating herself there, letting him wheel himself between her legs. Wordlessly he kissed her knee, resting his hands on her thighs. "What's up?"

"Well Esposito just called me," she told him, ominously.

"Did a body drop?" Castle perked his head up.

"No."

"Did Vice throw one our way?"

"No."

"Did…Esposito need your Apple Pie recipe? What?" She let out a light chuckle before growing serious again.

"We wanted to know what time the Halloween party was."

_Oh, shit._

"Kate, I was going to tell you-"

"Why didn't you? It's in a week?" Her anger was less passive now and it was starting to show in her voice. Castle pulled away, dropping back, defeated into his chair and rubbing his face with a hand.

"I was going to tell you tonight," he told her, sighing. His plan was unraveling before his eyes. He had tonight all planned- candles, her favorite French restaurant delivered, the loft to themselves. He was going to tell her about the party, and he was hoping it could be their first hosting as a couple. He had her key made and everything.

He felt it through the denim of his jeans- the metal had been living in his pocket for a month now- it was time he asked her.

"I'm sorry," he told her, instead.

"It's okay," she told him, reaching for him. She could have pushed it further but she didn't want to fight.

"So will you come?" he asked, scooting closer once again and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Might." She says, because she's still a little stung he hadn't told her and it was amusing watching him squirm.

"Please?"

"Fine."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Costumes are-

"Mandatory," she finished for him, earning a smile.

"What are you-"

"Not saying," she cut him off again, a wicked grin of her own in place.

"You have to, so we can coordinate."

"What, like you as salt and me as pepper?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of me as Peter Pan and you as Princess Tiger Lily."

"Absolutely not."

"Elizabeth Swan and Will Turner?"

"Uh-uh."

"Peanut butter and Jelly." She merely shook her head.

"Ball and chain?" Castle waggled his eyebrows, playfully, and she smacked his arm, biting her lip to stop the laughter that threatened to spew. "Me as the host and you as the hostess?"

"Excuse me?" she was caught off guard by the implication, and the serious look he was now wearing.

"Will you help Alexis and I set up?" He asked. His plan was obviously ruined, he would have to improvise.

"Of course," she answered, cocking her head to the side, curious at his line of questioning.

"Will you get ready here? For the party I mean."

"Sure?"

"I can move all of my clothes out of my closet, we can stop pretending like it's mine anymore and you can fit your costume in there." Her eyes closed to suspicious slits as she tried to figure him out. "And I can clear out a shelf or two in the bathroom you are slowly conquering as your own and you can put your make up in there."

"What are you getting at, Rick?"

"Move in."

"What?" She was shocked, but she didn't seem angry, for which Castle was relieved.

"Move in, Kate. Let's throw this party together, in _our _home."

"Yeah," She told him, her eyes looking at him but glazing over as she lost herself in thought. "Yeah, I will."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She came back to earth, smiling warmly at him as she grew comfortable with the idea. Not that she hadn't thought about it before- cause she had. All the time. Often. Wondered why she was paying rent at a place she visited once or twice a week, why she had more clothes in his closet than she did hers.

She was so relieved to stop pretending that this wasn't inevitable- that it wasn't right, that it wasn't exactly what she wanted.

"Alexis-" she began, as she realized the girl. She needed Alexis's approval, for everything, and this was no exception.

"Cornered me yesterday, furious that I hadn't asked you already." Kate smiled at the image, knowing how well Alexis could rip into her father. "So what are you going to be?"

"I haven't picked yet," he admitted.

"Well who are you usually?"

"Depends. I like dressing up as dead writers. You know, Poe, Shakespeare, Baudelaire." She couldn't stop the musical laugh that erupted. "You?"

"A homicide detective, Castle. I dress up as a homicide detective."

"Nahh," he said, after faking a moment of consideration. "That won't do. I could be the plug, you could be the socket!"

"Castle," she said, complete with a condescending look.

"What do you want to be?"

"Well…" she looked at him sideways, as if deciding whether or not to share her thoughts. After a half beat of examination, she continued, warily. "For the first eight years of my life, I dressed up as Xena."

It was all Castle could do not to choke on the air he was breathing. "Xena the Princess Warrior?"

"No, Xena the Warrior Princess," she corrected, before she could stop herself.

"That may be the hottest this you have ever said ever," he informed her. "I think we should do it."

"What?"

"You, as Xena."

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Castle."

"Oh, yes, Kate." He picked up his phone, dialing the name of his costume man.

"If you-"

"Oh, I am."

**I know, you thought I was kidding or something.  
Anyways.**

**Review, even if it's negative.  
pleaseandthankyou. **


	25. Yearn

**Okay.  
I personally think this is more...me.**

**Less words, more action.  
Lots of action. **

**This, hopefully, carries the meaning that last chapter lacked.  
Or, at least, I hope so.**

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Y

Yearn

She longed for his touch all day. The case she had been working for the last two weeks was about to be the death of her. The few times she left her desk was to crash at her apartment, alone, in her bed, with no pit stops in between.

She had seen Castle at work, and that was the end of it.

She wasn't above admitting that she missed him.  
She missed his home, his bed, his sheets, his body, his fingers, his mouth, his-  
She missed him a lot.

She knew he missed her, too, she could see it in the looks he gave her. The long, lingering ones full of yearning.

The bed was so cold without her- so big and so empty. This case- it damn near killed him to see her so stressed out. She was attached to that desk like she was physically chained to it, and he knew better then to ask her over on the few occasions that she did leave it.

Of course, that didn't stop him from staying as late as she would let him, making himself comfortable in his chair, content to stay all night like he knew she would.

He needed her touch, needed some sort of physical reminder that she was still there- that at the end of the case, she would collapse into the bed that was quickly becoming theirs and let him hold her.

When the case had ended, the killer caught, and the commissioner happy, that is exactly what she did.

He ran his fingers down the long curve of her side, lingering as he dragged his soft fingertips along. He took his time, absorbing the feel of her underneath his touch, relishing the small shiver he felt when he touched her right _there. _He did it again experimentally, rewarded by another tremor and a sharp intake of air.

This is something that Kate Beckett never would have imagined.

Fast, frenzied, hungry, wild, passionate.  
Rough, even.

But slow?  
Not in a million years did she think Richard Castle loved slowly.

She lay out on his bed, not caring that she was taking up most of the mattress. He hovered above her, his weight resting on the hand planted by her head while his free hand continued its light caress. His mouth found purchase on hers, again, lightly, his lips barely brushing-taunting, teasing, his nose grazing against hers, softly. When she couldn't take it anymore she lifted her head from the flat mattress it rested on, capturing his mouth with hers and a passion she had been retaining.

"God I missed you," she mumbled into the kiss, and he responded immediately to the admission.

She wanted more.

Her hands snaked up his chest and around his neck, trying to pull him down to her with more force. He obliged, and she could feel the amused smile in the kisses he trailed lazily down her neck, as she craned to give him better access. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he moved lower, gasping aloud when he found that place- the one right above her clavicle.

His hand was now feathering across her leg, actually flattening his palm against her smooth skin to feel the muscle there as she lifted it, wrapping it around his hip, drawing him closer. She radiated heat, and he couldn't tell if it was the scorching temperature even the night couldn't dampen or their current predicament, although he fancied to think the latter.

His hand left her leg after a moment, traveling back up her body and resting under her breast, brushing the bottom of it with his thumb. She moaned at the unexpected touch, arching her body towards his, reflexively. His tongue traced lines dangerously downward, her body again gravitating towards his when he threatened to pull away.

"Don't," she whispered, surprising them both, when he made to go even lower. She caught his eyes with hers, and immediately he understood the dark look she bore. Without a word of explanation, she showed him. They communicated in motions- in looks, in hand signals, sometimes with a French-to-English dictionary- and this time was no different than the others.

She wrapped her other leg around him, locking her ankles together behind his back. He got the message instantly, and humor reflected in the gaze she still held. She reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand and bringing his lips down to hers, in the same motion tightening her leg's grip and pulling him into her.

"Oh!" she broke the kiss only to gasp. He grumbled out something that resembled her name and after a moment and another kiss, he began to move. Like everything else he did that night it was slow- languidly so. At first it was nice, the easy motions, the slow build, but then, once again, she needed more.

She dug the heel of her foot into his back a little, encouraging him, and he picked up the pace.

"Kate," mumbled against her damp skin, as he rest his face in the nook of her neck.

"Yeah," she responded, her fingers tracing patterns on his back as he moved, quickening with her heartbeat as she got closer and closer. Neither asked a question, so their words were left hanging in the air with only their sounds to accompany them as they both reached that edge. One more push and they were tumbling over it together, falling in a flurry of limbs and kisses and cries.

He untangled himself from her, still looping an arm around her waist to pull her to his chest. She let him, enjoying the feeling of him around her, like a warm cocoon. She felt the warmth of his lips on the back of her neck, and she moved her neck in kind. Then suddenly she turned around in his arms so she was facing him.

She planted a lazy kiss on his chin, not able to muster up the energy for anything else. The kiss trailed down to the underside of his jaw. He hadn't shaved that morning and the scruff of his chin tickled- it took everything she had not to laugh at the sensation. She closed her eyes, wrapped up in his arms and content to fall asleep there.

"I missed you, too," he admitted, burying his face into her neck. "So, so much."

"Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" she asked. For some reason the filter from brain to mouth wasn't working. She would blame it on the last orgasm.

"Almost as amazing as you make me feel."

"Was that a line?" sleep was taking over and her words were slurring a little.

"Yes." She felt the comforter being brought up around her bare chest and shoulders, followed by the return of his warm body. Her fingers found his, pulling his arm around her body, holding him against her. She couldn't help the happy smile that crept onto her face just before she finally gave in to sleeps gravitational pull.

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**I hope the humor at the end wasn't reaching.  
Or thin.  
****Or anything like that, really.**

**Please take the time to review.  
One more left, huh?**

**DUNDUNDUN.**

**The button's below, if you forgot.**


	26. Zipper

**Here it is. The dreaded last chapter.  
Dreaded for me, definitely.  
Dreaded for you, hopefully. **

**And the Long Authors Note (Not dreaded, I hope!).**

**The alphabet has never been so much fun to read for me. I mean the song, yeah, it's great, but this little adventure has been so great. This was for me, a challenge. A lesson to learn. An experiment, really. Now I feel like I can write something in under 500 words. I feel like I have learned many new things, grown as a writer and now I can say the alphabet without singing it (mostly). I hope- oh Ido hope- this has been as much fun for you, the reader, as it has been for me.**

**Blah, Blah, Blah, the reader says. Okay.**

**And now, for the last Note: Z**

**Zipper**

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**

Kate Beckett entered the loft, the air heavy with the aroma of cooking dinner. She opened the door, stepping into the foyer and slipping out of her heals, unable to stop the soft sigh of relief when she did. She used her foot to tuck them neatly under the small table just inside the door, dropping her keys on the marble chess-board surface and shrugging of her coat. The loft was dim-lit and cloaked only in a soft light, and it immediately put her at ease. She padded softly down the hall, draping the coat over one of the bar chairs as she came to it, sneaking a sideways glance into the kitchen.

It was empty, but the stove light was on, and she could see the oven light indicating it was, indeed, on. She kept moving, past the cleverly concealed laundry room, where she could hear the soft hum of the washer and dryer running simultaneously. She continued until she reached the living room, noting the man sitting on the couch. She made her way behind the couch, loud enough to prevent alarming him but stealthy enough to be sneaky.

She slid an arm over the couch, down its worn, brown leather surface, until she reached his arm. She snaked it over that, too, until it was traveling along the expanse of his broad shoulders and chest. She bent her head so her lips brushed his ear when she whispered: "Dear."

"Hmm?" Rick looked up from the book he was reading, pretending to just notice her.

"The dishes are done," she informed him, nipping at his earlobe, lightly.

"Are they?" he asked, a smile pulling at his lips as he set the book onto the end table, gently.

"Mmmhmm. And the laundry is done," she punctuated this point by tracing her tongue to his pulse point, planting her lips there.

"Well if I am not mistaken, they are still running," he explained, cheekily, as his arms reached for her, one hand traveling slowly up the arm she had wrapped around him. "But if you had come home twenty minutes later, I have this funny feeling they would have been folded in your drawers by now."

"Who's in my drawers?" she asked, and he in response, he pulled. She was caught off guard, and his grip on her sent her over the back of the couch and onto it. Onto him.

The laughter bubbled from inside of her, pouring out and mixing with his. He looked her full in the eye, now that she was facing him straight on, adjusting himself on the couch to better accommodate her, so she was laying half on him and half on the couch cushions. "You're making dinner," she said, her voice now soft, not teasing but loving.

"I'm making _you _dinner." He corrected, his heart warming to goo at the sight of the smile his words earned.

"I must be dreaming," she said, a bite of sarcasm only noticeable by the trained ear in her voice.

"I can't tell if that was a line or an insult."

"Both."

"I love you," he told her, brushing her hair from her face. "I love you so much."

It was her heart's turn to ache. She reached up, brushing his face with her fingertips, as if he were a puzzle she couldn't solve. "I love you too." And then after a long moment: "I love you too."

He shifted so she fell completely onto the couch, using his arms to balance his weight above her. He bent his head, his lips starting at the base of her throat and working upwards, along the column of her throat and along her jaw until he reached her lips, hovering right above them.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, and the breath of them sent a shiver down her spine. He touched her nose with his, once, lightly, and then nuzzled it again with more enthusiasm.

She craned her neck, willing to play along, planting lingering kisses along the underside of his chin and along the scruff lining his mandible, carefully avoiding his mouth. If he wanted to drive her crazy, two could play that game. It made her smile when he was the one to break, at last capturing her lips with his in a passionate kiss.

Her tongue traced his bottom lip, asking for entrance that he gladly gave, deepening the caress further, her arms circling his neck and fingers threading his hair.

He carefully shifted his weight to one hand, using the other to snake around her body, finding the zipper to the dress she was wearing, pulling at it, dragging it down, careful not to catch her skin.

"Rick," she murmured into his mouth, unwilling to break the kiss, and his hand froze.

"Hmmm?" he hummed, equally reluctant.

"Dinner," she mumbled, too distracted to elaborate.

"It's got at least another hour to fully," he was cut off by a small bite to his bottom lip, followed by her mouth pressed firmly against his. "marinate," he managed, her need and eagerness only fueling his.

"It's a damn good thing I didn't come twenty minutes later, then, huh?" she told him, before arching her back, pressing her body flush against his. Her only response was something resembling a growl "You're wearing too many clothes."

And again, he reached for her zipper.

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**I hope this homey little chapter tied this fic into a pretty bow for you (I thought it was serviceable.)**

**Thank you to Susan, for keeping me in line (and taking care of myself), to Emily, for being so damn hot, and to Andy, for all the support (and a few chapter names ;D). ****I also have to take a few words to thank VACastleFan, ages and ages ago, for the title suggestion for this chapter.**

**As for those who have asked for a sequel, you will be happy to hear (you will be happy, right?) that I, too, have grown rather attached to this piece, and am planning a companion piece to be posted sometime in the future. **

'**The Lost Notes,' I'll call it.  
Yeah.**

**To hold you over, though, I have a full-story fic in the works and I'm looking to have it published in the very near future, so look out for it ;D or Subscribe, so you don't have to. Just sayin. **

**I would, for the 26****th**** time, **_**love**_** to hear your thoughts in the form of a review or PM.**

_**l'amore sempre,**_

_**softer**_


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